And We Will See It Done
by Lily Rae
Summary: In my story, the Kingdom of Númenor did not fall. Currently its Princess, Lothíriel, suffering along with the people under the rule of the tyrant King Galdor, accepts an offer to join Thorin Oakenshield's Company. Yearning for an adventure and for a new home, the one thing she did not expect to happen was to fall in love with a Dwarf along the way to Erebor.
1. Chapter 1: A Princess in Exile

**And We Will See It Done**

**By Lily Rae**

**Full Summary:** "Lothíriel is the Princess of Númenor and heir to the throne. Númenor was once a mighty Kingdom of Men but this status has fallen due to the current King and Lothíriel's father: the tyrant Galdor. To escape from his abuse and to fulfill her dead grandfather's wish, the great King Eldacar, Lothíriel accepts an offer to join Númenor's old ally Thorin Oakenshield and his Company to help them take back their lost Kingdom, Erebor. This Quest will not only be of fighting but it will be of Lothíriel finding herself, and finding a new home—a place to settle. Fitting in with the race she could now call her family, Lothíriel also did not expect to fall in love along the way."

**Pairings:** Possibly Thorin, Fili or Kili; undecided.

**World:** Mainly Peter Jackson's films – any changes he makes from the book I will most likely keep too.

**Genres:** Adventure, fantasy, romance, friendship, drama.

**Warnings:** Perhaps some mild violence and mild sexual scenes but nothing that will go above a T Rating.

**Chapter One: A Princess In Exile**

Lothíriel, Princess of Númenor and heir to its throne, lay on her bed in her bedchamber. Her long and regal red dress was draped across the quilt and her long, wavy fair hair fell down to her breasts. In her hand, she twiddled with the locket that had belonged to her mother, Fíriel, a Lady of Númenor. Fíriel had died during childbirth during which Lothíriel and her twin brother Prince Eldacar of Númenor were born. She had died before she was to become Queen alongside her husband. Lothíriel was the eldest twin, born ten minutes before her brother, and, by rules of accession, the rightful heir to the throne.

Sighing, she dropped the locket so it fell onto her chest. _I do not want to be Queen of Númenor. I need to get off this Island and sail to the shores of Middle-earth._

Her father King Galdor doesn't want her to take the crown, and for once Lothíriel agreed with the man. Númenor was nothing but a place of bad memories and she yearned to get away, settle elsewhere, or even have an adventure. Her adventurous nature had always infuriated her father, to the point where he—

Lothíriel shut her eyes to block out the memories of a painful past. Subconsciously she stroked the bruises around her neck. Though a strong-willed woman and a warrior, having been taught to fight since before she could remember, her father's rage was something she could not handle. He absolutely loved her brother, and Lothíriel did too, but despised his only daughter.

King Galdor had only been crowned five years previously, when Lothíriel was sixteen. She loved her grandfather, Eldacar, King of Númenor and her brother's namesake, and he loved her in return. Her grandfather was as adventurous as she was, and had always sailed to Middle-earth when his help was needed. After all, King Eldacar and his army fought alongside the Dwarf Thorin Oakenshield, King of Durin's Folk, in the Battle of Azanulbizar. He marched with the dwarven armies beneath the East-gate of Moria and helped defeat the Orcs and the Goblins. Her grandfather had often told her the story of how Thorin's shield had broken during the battle; he cleaved a great branch from a nearby oak tree to use as both defence and bludgeon.

Yes, her grandfather was a great man. Lothíriel would never understand how his son, her father, turned out the way he did. For the last five years he has all but shut out the rest of Middle-earth and sailors rarely left the Island, only for supplies. He has refused to give aid to those who were once their Allies, and that included Thorin Oakenshield.

Thinking back to the history of her homeland, told to her many times by her grandfather, Númenor was said to have been brought up out of the sea as a gift to the race of Men in the early Second Age. The Island itself is in the shape of a five-pointed star, and thus the Island also goes by another name, _Isle of Elenna_, meaning "Starwards". It is told that the Dúnedain, the people of Númenor, were first led to it by the star of Eärendil. Though home to mainly Men, a small number of elves used to reside on the Island, and Lothíriel always loved hearing their tales.

Back when King Eldacar ruled, Lothíriel sailed many times to Middle-earth, and saw many great kingdoms, including Rohan and Gondor. But now the Island lived in virtual solitude from everywhere else, and the shipbuilding, sea craft and the forging of weapons and armour industries had almost hit a standstill, with many struggling to feed their families and stay alive. Often Lothíriel, and a few other Lords and Ladies from the palace and lands around the capital city Armenelos, roamed cities and towns, helping out her people. Not ever her father's hands could scare her off this duty.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Her brother, Eldacar, popped his head around the door.

"Lothíriel, we are needed to attend a council meeting," he said urgently.

She frowned as she saw the sun beginning to set from the big windows opposite her bed. "Now?"

He nodded. "There is an envoy downstairs. He carries a message."

Lothíriel stood up and smoothed her red dress down, so it swept out elegantly behind her. She fixed a few beads in her long hair in front of a mirror on the wall. "Who is the message from?"

"Thorin Oakenshield."

Lothíriel stared at her brother in shock for a moment, before fixing a final bead. "Then what are we waiting for?"

Interested as to why Thorin Oakenshield would even bother sending an envoy to a King who has repeatedly turned him away in the past, Lothíriel followed Eldacar quickly as they went down the hall from her bedchamber, down some steps and into the magnificent Throne Room.

Their father, King Galdor, sat on the throne, the crown sitting atop his head. He wore fine breeches and an equally fine shirt, and a robe covered these partially. Galdor looked angry, so Lothíriel naturally gulped as she walked towards the envoy standing in front of her father and other council members, all Lords. Her hands behind her back, she stood at the front of the throne room and had a good look at the envoy. He was a Dwarf, a very old Dwarf at that, with white hair and a white beard to match. He looked wise and gentle.

"My Lady, my Lord," he said politely, bowing. They in turn bowed only their heads. "My name is Balin, son of Fundin. I am here to convey a message to the King of Númenor from Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, King of Durin's Folk."

Excitement pulsed through Lothíriel's veins. Balin looked to the King, who nodded for him to continue.

"Thorin is embarking on a quest," Balin told them, "with a company of thirteen Dwarves and the wizard Gandalf the Grey."

Lothíriel's breath hitched. _An adventure. A chance to escape Númenor._

"What is this quest?" asked her father.

"To regain the lost Dwarven kingdom of the Lonely Mountain from the Dragon Smaug." At his words there was muttering from the Lords in the council, and King Galdor stared at the Dwarf, narrowing his eyes as he did so.

"And _what_ has this got to do with the Kingdom of Númenor?" King Galdor asked, pressing his fingers together, sitting back in the throne.

"Thorin wants to remember the alliance between himself, his father and your father," Balin continued. "He wishes for you to consider sending someone to join our Company—" Balin's eyes flickered over to where the Prince and Princess was standing, and Lothíriel could have sworn his eyes met hers.

"Absolutely not," King Galdor. He rose to his feet, trembling in anger. "Get out! Get—"

"Wait!" Everyone turned to Lothíriel in shock, though Balin nodded to her curtly, a small smile playing on his lips. "I'll come. I'll accompany Thorin Oakenshield to the Lonely Mountain."

"You will not!" her father, enraged, stormed towards his daughter, his arms stretched out—

"Stop!" yelled Eldacar, putting a protective arm in front of Lothíriel. "Father, please, consider this. If Lothíriel—"

"Move, son," Galdor snarled. "She is _not going anywhere._"

Balin looked worried, but something told Lothíriel that he was not surprised the King was treating her like this. _Does he know about us well?_

"Why?" Lothíriel, with the prospect of leaving with Balin, gained confidence in front of her childhood monster. "You don't want me here. You don't want me to take that crown. You wished I had died, instead of our mother. So _let me go_."

Galdor stopped, shocked at her words, though they were true enough. After a few seconds, he recovered and turned to his council. "Well?" he demanded.

They muttered in their respective groups. Their fine clothes contrasted with their old age; they were the wisest in all of Númenor. The head of the council stared at Lothíriel and, after what felt like an age, he nodded. "You may go."

Lothíriel grinned, and clasped a hand onto her brother to steady herself from the shock. He smiled back at her kindly, happy she was escaping.

"But," the head of the council continued, "if you leave here today with Balin, son of Fundin, you cannot return to Númenor."

Lothíriel nodded, but her brother protested against this. She silenced him though, "Do not worry, Eldacar. I will leave with Balin and it is most likely I will not return at all, anyway. I may not survive this quest."

He bowed his head. Balin nodded to agree; she may not come out of this alive. "We welcome your alliance and your sword, my Lady."

_He knows I can fight, too._

She thought more for a moment. She would miss her old friends, the people, and her brother...even the land itself. Númenor was beautiful, had wonderful customs and traditions, and its past and people were equally fascinating. Though she has good memories, the bad ones outweigh them. She has to get away. Can she let go of the abuse she suffered at the hands of her father by leaving home? _There's only one way to find out._

"And so be it," her father muttered. "The throne of Númenor is yours, son. My only child and heir."

The words did not sting. Not anymore. She watched in pure happiness as Galdor swept from the Throne Room, saying no more to either her or Balin. The council members began to disperse, seemingly making preparations to make her exile known to the public after she leaves. Her brother hugged her tightly.

"You can return once I am King, I promise," he murmured in her ear. "Please come back to me, Lothíriel. Stay safe."

She nodded. "I will try."

"My Lady," said Balin, who had now approached them. "We must leave tonight. I will wait for you in our boat while you say your farewells and pack. I will be waiting where the river Nunduinë reaches the sea, in the Bay of Eldanna." Lothíriel nodded to show that she understood.

Balin and Eldacar bowed to each other, and Balin left. "It is almost as if he meant to ask _you_ to join their Company."

Lothíriel nodded. "Even if that was not his intention I am grateful nevertheless."

* * *

An hour later, Lothíriel was ready to leave with Balin. She was now wearing breeches, long brown boots, a shirt that was tucked into her breeches with a sweater over the top and then a thick cloak was fastened across her chest. Her long hair was now free of the decorative beads and it was tied into a side fishtail plait. She also wore a small backpack with some essentials in, and her belt was tied around her waist where her sword and her dagger lived.

"You look different," her brother remarked. "Almost like you are no longer a Princess of Númenor."

"I'm not anymore, am I?" she replied, taking a last look around her bedchamber. "You heard what _he_ said."

"I'm sorry," Eldacar said quietly, "for everything. I wish we could have been—"

She took Eldacar's face into her hands. "Do not apologize for our father. I'm just thankful you did not turn out the same. Before I go, I have something to give you—"

She unclasped their mother's locket, and placed it in Eldacar's palm. "Take care of it for me. I want it to be in safe hands in case I..."

Lothíriel trailed off. Eldacar nodded, and closed his fist around the locket. She hugged her brother once more. "Farewell, brother."

* * *

Lothíriel set off beyond the palace, the "King's House", casting a backwards glance at her old home before she turned the corner. It was dark now, and the only light was that of her lantern which she held out in front of her, her cloak billowing out behind her. Excitement but also nerves wracked her body. First, she had to hope all thirteen Dwarves accept her into their Company. Balin seemed to have no problems when she first volunteered. But then there's Thorin Oakenshield himself, the mighty warrior and King. On the other hand, Gandalf is travelling with them—she had met him before, when she was younger, and he was wonderful.

And then there's the small problem of _getting _to the Lonely Mountain, and once there, defeating Smaug. _But I cannot wait for an adventure._

Lothíriel reached the Bay of Eldanna and saw many boats along the shore. But only one had a light glowing from it, and she walked towards it. She could have laughed aloud when she saw _him_ leaning against the ship's mast.

She grinned. "Gandalf."

He looked up, his grey hat no longer obscuring his features. He smiled back. "Ah, my Lady, Lothíriel! It is good to see you again."

He held a hand out and she accepted, jumping into the boat. "What are you doing here?" she asked in surprise. The sound of snores from below told her Balin was sleeping.

"Why, I've come to find someone to share in an adventure," he said, beaming still. He looked her over. "You certainly look ready for one!"

"Anything to get away from—" She stopped and cleared her throat, but there was no need to elaborate as Gandalf knew.

"Yes, I did not want you here any longer," he said quietly. Lothíriel smiled in thanks. "But come! We shall set off for the shores of Middle-earth, where we will soon join the Company of Thorin Oakenshield."

Lothíriel nodded. "I am doing this for my grandfather. He would want us to help Thorin."

Gandalf placed a hand on her shoulder. "He would be very proud of you." There was silence as Lothíriel thought sadly of her grandfather, until Gandalf spoke again. "We must get you to Gondor straight away. They may hear of your exile, and you _must_ set things straight."

Lothíriel sighed. "Yes. And what should I say to Turgon, Steward of Gondor?"

"_Do not_ mention the Quest. I know your father knows of it, but he would never mention exiling you because of Thorin Oakenshield. His pride will not allow it." Gandalf looked at the young princess with sorrow in his eyes. "But you can tell them some truth—tell them how unhappy you are."

"I will."

"Good," said Gandalf. "With some luck they should pass on the message to other kingdoms of Men. I am sorry to say that I cannot accompany you to Gondor. Balin has agreed to take you there, but will wait on the outskirts of the Kingdom whilst you talk to the Steward. He will then travel with you to our first meeting as a Company."

"Where will you be?" asked Lothíriel.

"First, I shall inform Thorin that you agreed to join his Company. And then I will be finding our burglar," he said, a smile playing on his lips. "Incidentally that will be our first meeting place."

"And where is that?"

"The Shire," he replied. "But that is enough for tonight. After we have both rested, I shall explain everything."

* * *

Lothíriel and Balin traipsed across the countryside, leaving the Kingdom of Gondor. Gandalf, true to his word, explained the Quest when they landed on the shores of Middle-earth when the sun had risen. The Dwarfs were to reclaim their homeland, and Gandalf insisted to Thorin that burglary was the best approach, and Gandalf has chosen a young Hobbit whose name is Bilbo Baggins and is, apparently, a "professional thief." He explained the story Lothíriel knew well: that the Dragon Smaug attacked the Lonely Mountain, pillaged the Dwarvish kingdom of Thorin's grandfather and now sleeps upon their vast treasure. Signs that had been foretold were sighted by the Dwarfs and Gandalf; thus using these signs as justification for the Quest. Gandalf hinted that the last Dragon needed to be wiped out, but why, Lothíriel did not know.

"But why only a small Company?" Lothíriel had asked Gandalf. "Why not take an army?"

"I thought a small number would be best for many reasons," he had replied. "We would draw less attention to ourselves on the road and when we get there. But I have no doubt we will call for an army if the time comes for it."

Whilst Gandalf "surprises" his burglar, Lothíriel had spoken to the Steward of Gondor: Turgon. He had indeed known that she was in exile, but thankfully believed her story of her father's abuse and how he has corrupted the once great Kingdom Númenor. Gondor had apparently not heard anything from their old Allies until news came in the form of her banishment. Turgon had even offered Lothíriel a place to stay but she had politely turned him down; she was going travelling.

The meeting with Gondor over, Balin enjoyed Lothíriel's company, and she too liked his, very much. Balin told the young, eager Princess of his current homeland, the Blue Mountains, where the exiled Dwarfs of Erebor reside. It is to the far west of Eriador, one region of Middle-earth.

"The mountain range was broken during the war of the Valar against Morgoth, and at the middle of the range the sea broke through," Balin explained, as they journeyed down the North-South Road on a pony and a horse for Lothíriel. "The mighty Dwarf fortress-cities of Nogrod and Belegost were inundated by the sea but they were eventually rebuilt to their former splendour. Ah, my Lady, during the Third Age our forests were the largest in Middle-earth!"

After Balin told her the tales of the Blue Mountains, Lothíriel asked her companion. "If you don't mind my asking, how old are you, Balin?"

"Old," he chuckled. "I am 225 years old." He laughed at Lothíriel's shocked face. "We Dwarves live around 250 years."

"You are only as old as you feel Balin," she joked. "I think you look very well for 225!"

"You are very kind," he replied. "And how old are you, My Lady?"

"I am 21," Lothíriel told him.

"Ah, Thorin himself was only 18 when Smaug attacked," Balin said thoughtfully. "He was already a great warrior and King-to-be by then. And the way I have heard it, you are an excellent fighter."

"Well, I've been training in combat for as long as I could remember," she said. "Originally I was the future Queen..."

They travelled for a fair few days, (Lothíriel had lost count) and they learnt many new things from each other. Balin led the way of course, but she basked in the travelling and the new sights. They took refuge and food where they could; Lothíriel loved every minute of this uncertainty, and Balin noticed how she did not complain once. In fact she looked happier than when he first met her at Númenor.

Eventually, they reached the Shire, to a village called Bywater. Passing a stream, Lothíriel and Balin left their horse and pony with a farmer that Gandalf had paid, near The Green Dragon Inn. Then, they walked on for a mile or so, a road lined by an avenue of trees, eventually crossing The Water, also walking past a great Mill until they reached their final destination for the evening: Hobbiton.

Lothíriel gazed at it in wonder; it was dark but the street lamps showed her enough of its beauty. There were many slopes with "Hobbit Holes" and the gardens and buildings were all perfect, as if no pollution came here. Of course Lothíriel had heard of Hobbits but had never seen one. She had asked Balin on their travels of what he knew of Hobbits; he did not know much more than Lothíriel.

"There should be a mark from Gandalf on one of these doors," muttered Balin as they walked around the twisting pathways.

Soon enough they spotted a rune on one such door. It was the rune for the letter "G." They opened the little gate, walked upwards slightly to the round green door. The garden around them was well kept. On the door was a round brass knob and two little windows sat either side.

"I do hope we're not late!" Balin told Lothíriel, as he rang the bell.

* * *

**A/N: Well, that was my first taste of LOTR/Hobbit fanfiction! I do hope it was OK; I did lots of research and planning for this so hopefully you all enjoyed it. Please do review as I really do need them at this early stage. Thank you for reading! :)**


	2. Chapter 2: An Unexpected Party, Part One

**Chapter Two: An Unexpected Party, Part One**

After only a few seconds of waiting, the round, green door opened. Inside stood a Hobbit; he was short, shorter than Balin and even shorter of course than Lothíriel. He had a round, jovial face, brown curly hair and slightly pointed ears. A noticeable feature of the Hobbit was his feet, as he wore no shoes and by the looks of things did not need to, as they were rather large and hairy from the ankles down.

This Hobbit, Lothíriel guessed, was the Bilbo Baggins Gandalf spoke of, and he looked slightly startled by the appearance of Balin and Lothíriel; something told her that they were not quite expected. And he was also in a dressing gown.

"Balin," said her companion, smiling. He then bowed. "At your service." He then turned to Lothíriel. "And this is Lothíriel, though I expect you would have guessed that."

Lothíriel bowed her head and smiled at the still-startled Hobbit. "Hello."

He stared at them for a second or two before saying, "Good evening."

Balin looked up to the sky. "Yes, yes it is," He entered the Hobbit Hole and continued, "though I think it might rain later."

Lothíriel followed Balin into the Hobbit's dwelling. The door opened on to a tube-shaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats—this Hobbit must love visitors. The tunnel seemed to wind on and on but not in a straight line, it looked almost like a labyrinth. There were many round doors on the right hand side, but wide archways stood on the left.

"Are we late?" Balin asked Bilbo in some concern, whilst hanging up his cloak on one of the many pegs. "Ah, I see only one has arrived." Lothíriel saw that now only three cloaks hung on the pegs as she did the same with hers.

Bilbo studied Balin and said in extreme confusion, "Late for what?"

Suddenly, Balin noticed somebody down the first archway on their left. Lothíriel moved forwards some more and saw just one Dwarf. This one was tall, almost as tall as Lothíriel herself as she was short for a Man. He also had a shaved head though hair fell down the sides and he had a brown beard and moustache to go with it. His head was tattooed, and upon his brow was a frown that told Lothíriel he had endured years of hardship.

"Oh!" Balin laughed, moving into the next room as his fellow Dwarf wrestled with something in a jar. "Evening, brother."

Lothíriel beamed at Bilbo and followed Balin into the other room, only at ease around him, whom she felt she knew quite well. Bilbo, alarmed, cautiously approached his front door and looked out nervously.

"By my beard," the Dwarf said to Balin, "you're shorter and wider than last we met!" He had indeed noticed Lothíriel following Balin, but did not seem at all surprised by her presence. _They all must know I was travelling with Balin._

"Wider, not shorter," Balin replied. "Sharp enough for the both of us!" Laughing, the two Dwarves embraced each other. One thing that Lothíriel did _not_ expect them to do was to _head but_ each other, but this seemed to be an acceptable greeting of some kind.

"Oh, brother, allow me to introduce Lothíriel, Princess of Númenor," Balin said, stepping aside. "And my Lady, this is my younger brother, Dwalin."

They both bowed their heads to one another. "My Lady."

"Oh, please, both of you, call me Lothíriel," she insisted.

"Hm," Dwalin muttered, raising his eyebrows at her.

"She is quite the humble noble woman," Balin told Dwalin, who had crossed his huge arms together and was staring down at her in distrust. "Also, you must forgive my brother, Lothíriel. He is distrustful of anyone who is not a Dwarf."

"Uh, excuse me? Sorry, I hate to interrupt, but did you say you're a Princess?" said the voice of Bilbo behind them, who had shut the front door and followed them into what Lothíriel deemed a little dining room.

She nodded to reply. "A Princess in exile," she laughed slightly. Seeing she was quite light-hearted about her situation, Bilbo eased up and smiled warmly.

"I am Bilbo Baggins, my Lady," he told her, bowing.

"Oh—no, please, you need not bow to me Master Baggins," she said kindly. "And you must call me Lothíriel."

"Only if you call me Bilbo," he replied to the kind Princess. She nodded. "But you see, the thing is, I'm not entirely sure you're in the right house." He pointed to the door behind him.

Lothíriel frowned, even though she saw this coming from Bilbo. She turned to Balin and Dwalin for some, _any_, clarification.

"We are quite certain we have got the right house," Balin smiled widely. "Are you sure you're in the right house? You are a Mister Bilbo Baggins, am I correct?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"Ah well that is a relief!" Balin said. "Now could you be so kind as to direct us to your pantry?"

Uncertainly, Bilbo nodded, looking frustrated that he had gotten nowhere in figuring out who his unexpected guests were. They followed him to a fairly large cupboard where his pantry lived; it was filled with lots of food. Lothíriel who had indeed noticed Bilbo's round stomach thought that he really must have a big appetite.

Balin and Dwalin began to inspect his pantry, and Dwalin began to fill a pint of ale. He pushed it into Lothíriel's hands. "Oh, er, thank you," she said, taking a little sip of it.

Bilbo stood at the entry of his pantry. "It's not that I don't like visitors," he told them, the Dwarves paying little attention. "I like visitors as much as the next Hobbit. But I do like to know them before they come visiting!"

Balin had been inspecting something in his hands and Dwalin took it off him and sniffed it. "What is this?" he asked in disgust.

"I don't know," Balin replied. "I thought it was cheese but it's gone blue."

"It's riddled with mould," Dwalin muttered. Lothíriel recognised it as just blue cheese, though she had no taste for it either and smiled at the Dwarves inspecting it.

"The thing is, I don't know any of you," Bilbo continued, Dwalin throwing the blue cheese over his shoulder. Lothíriel compressed a grin, "not in the slightest. I don't mean to be blunt, but I had to speak my mind, I'm sorry." He held up his hands.

Suddenly Balin and Dwalin fell silent and turned to the Hobbit. "Apology accepted," Balin said, smiling once more to Bilbo. "Ah now fill it up brother, don't stint!" Dwalin had filled another pint of ale for Balin, whilst Lothíriel was extremely amused at this point by the poor Hobbit but felt it only best to tell him what was going on until the door bell rang. Bilbo turned to the sound of the bell, shocked.

"You want to get stuck in?" Dwalin asked them.

"We could eat again if you insist, couldn't we Lothíriel?" Balin asked happily.

"Er, well—"

"Excellent," Dwalin cut her off. "Let's find a large table that'll fit us all around it."

The Hobbit had set off to open the door, and Lothíriel heard him whimper when he had opened it. Taking her ale, Lothíriel set off for a large dining table and found one in a small room. "What about this one?" she shouted to the Dwarves and they soon joined her.

"Perfect," Dwalin growled.

Then, two younger Dwarves came into sight. One had blonde hair, a fairly short beard for a Dwarf with plaits for decoration and the other was brown haired, had no beard at all but stubble and he wore his shoulder length hair loose. Lothíriel would have guessed, were they Men, that they were her age but they would surely still be a lot older than her; perhaps her equivalent in their race. She turned back around to the oak table as the familiar Dwarves tried to find more room.

Lothíriel placed her ale, alongside Balin and Dwalin's, on the table. She heard Dwalin's voice as he left, "Fili, Kili, come on, give us a hand."

"Mr. Dwalin," one of them said back to him and they approached the rest of them.

"Let's shove this in the hallway otherwise we'll never get everyone in," Balin told the newcomers. He began to move a cabinet, with the help of Dwalin. It was then that Lothíriel turned around to greet the two Dwarves.

They were already looking at her, standing at the entrance of the dining room. The blonde Dwarf nudged his companion who was still staring and said, "I will introduce us," he said, grinning at her. His warm smile made Lothíriel feel at ease once more. "I am Fili. This is my brother Kili."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Lothíriel smiled back. She daren't let her nervousness show; she sounded rather confident to be meeting so many new people of a different race.

"Where do you want this?" asked Dwalin, and Lothíriel looked at him trying to move a chest of drawers. Fili went to help him, but Kili walked over to where Lothíriel was standing. He was no longer just staring at her, but was smiling.

"And you must be Lothíriel," he told her as the others moved stuff around them. They moved out of the way for Balin carrying some chairs. "Her, or the most beautiful female Dwarf I have ever seen."

"And I mis-took you for a Man," Lothíriel told him, returning his smile. "As _you_ are a hand—er, beardless Dwarf."

She almost said handsome to him, but for some reason stopped herself, even though he had complimented her. He was grinning now and they both jumped slightly at the sound of the doorbell. "That must be the rest of them," Kili told her. "I saw them not too far behind us."

Lothíriel laughed at Bilbo's voice. "No! No, there's nobody home. Go away and bother somebody else! There's far too many Dwarves in my dining room as it is. If this is some clot-head's idea of a joke—_haha_—I can only say, it is in very poor taste!"

They heard the sound of various voices and a _thud_. Kili gazed at her when she laughed and smiled at the sound. "Yep, that'll definitely be them," Lothíriel agreed.

"Come on Kili, we need a hand," Fili called, staring at the two of them.

"Sorry, I am distracting him," Lothíriel called back to his brother.

"I am _sure_ it is not you to blame," he said, winking. Lothíriel looked between the two brothers, amused as Kili half-smiled, half-frowned at Fili before moving away to help. They had now gathered enough space around the table, and now needed crockery and cutlery to go down, more chairs and then the food itself.

The rest of the Dwarves entered now, receiving instruction from Balin and Dwalin as to what they need. They each also introduced themselves to the Princess, happy and accepting of her, to which she was relieved. In addition to the two sets of brothers she had already met, there were Bofur, his brother Bombur and his cousin Bifur. Bofur is whom Lothíriel took a liking to the most, for he was very funny and wore a ridiculous hat and a cheeky smile. Bombur was _extremely _large and had a massive ginger beard (but Lothíriel was not surprised that he was to be the head chef of the Company), and Bifur was inarticulate, greeting her with a grunt, and Lothíriel suspected that this was something to do with the rusting remains of an Orc ax embedded in his forehead.

Next she met Oin and Gloin, again brothers. Oin was hard of hearing, used an ear trumpet to aid him and was also the Company's healer; Gloin was the only husband of the group and a proud father, and he even showed Lothíriel his portraits of them. Lothíriel admitted to herself that she would have thought his wife was a male if he had not stated otherwise. And finally she met the brothers Dori, Nori and Ori. Dori was quite the pessimist and did indeed expect the worse of the Quest; Nori is often in trouble with the Dwarvish authorities and did not see eye to eye with his brothers, whilst Ori was definitely the youngest of the group and was very shy when Lothíriel first met him, and muttered something about showing her his journal of drawings one day.

The only one she had yet to meet was Thorin Oakenshield himself.

Extremely pleased with her company, Lothíriel was then greeted at last by Gandalf. "Ah, my Lady Lothíriel, you look as wonderful as ever. I trust you and Balin had a safe journey?"

"We did," she replied, smiling. "Although, Gandalf, I do get the feeling we were not entirely expected by Master Baggins."

Gandalf simply laughed and tapped his nose. Lothíriel chuckled at the Wizard and continued to help laying out the table. Bilbo watched in horror as the Dwarves began to pillage his pantry. "That's my chicken...and my wine," he said, exasperated. The last he said to Bifur, and Lothíriel watched as Bilbo stared in confusion as he began talking to Bilbo in the secret Dwarvish language, Khuzdul. Balin had told Lothíriel on their journey that it was widely believed that no one else had the right to speak or learn Khuzdul as it was the _Dwarvish_ language. Because of this, their mother tongue was usually the Common Speech, and that "Dwarves carefully learned Khuzdul through reverent study as they matured, to make sure that their language was passed down unaltered from one generation to the next."

"He's got an injury," Oin told Bilbo, with Lothíriel thankful that it was being explained to the poor Hobbit who could do without any more confusion.

"You mean the ax in his head?" Bilbo replied bluntly.

Oin then decided to put the trumpet instrument in his ears having misheard Bilbo, "_Dead?_No, only between his ears. His legs work fine!"

Bilbo soon forgot all about is as Lothíriel heard him say other amusing phrases as they all helped out, like, "Put that back!", "Not the jam!" and "Not my prize-winners!"

Lothíriel looked up as Bombur walked past her, gazing at the three large cheeses in his arms. "Excuse me?" said Bilbo, who had now changed out of his dressing gown and into clothes. "That's a tad excessive, isn't it? Have you got a cheese knife?"

"Cheese knife?" said Bofur, walking past and carrying what appeared to be a large ham. "He eats it by the block."

Bilbo sighed, and Lothíriel laughed a little as she helped Ori set up the table with plates, and cutlery. Looking up, she saw Gloin and Oin carrying two chairs to fit by the table.

"No, that's Grandpa Mungo's chair—" he had started, but then saw Oin coming in behind his brother. "And so is that, take it back please!"

"I cannot hear what you're saying," Oin told him, only for Bilbo to say, "It's an antique, not for sitting on!"

"What on earth is the point of that?" Lothíriel asked Ori, who smiled in response. He was sweet and Lothíriel even felt a little protective over him already. They laughed together when they heard Bilbo say, "That is a book, not a coaster! And put that map _down_."

"Poor Bilbo," Lothíriel said, with a smile. "It seems we are uninvited, rowdy guests."

Gandalf was too helping lay the table, and he winked at Lothíriel. "It is just what our young Hobbit needs," he said with a grin. Then, Dori approached them from behind. "Excuse me, Mr. Gandalf? May I tempt you with a cup of chamomile? And you, my Lady?"

"Oh no, thank you, Dori," Gandalf replied. "A little red wine for me, I think."

"And I already have an ale," Lothíriel replied, smiling. Dori nodded in response and moved away, presumably to fetch Gandalf's wine. Gandalf himself left the dining room, to count the Dwarves.

"It seems we are one Dwarf short," Gandalf said to himself. Lothíriel felt something sweep behind her, and could have sworn a hand quickly brushed her back. She turned around and saw Fili and Kili carry the ale barrel; neither of them gave anything away. She soon forgot all about it when she heard Dwalin say, "He is late, is all. He travelled north to a meeting of our kin. He will come."

Lothíriel guessed they were talking about Thorin. Because of his absence her interest in the King had peaked even more so than usual.

Soon enough, Bilbo's dining table was covered in food. Lothíriel had seated herself beside Balin and found dinner absolutely wonderful. It was a lot of fun, laughter, throwing food about—a lot more fun than any meal she had ever had with her fellow Men. She could easily get used to this as she bonded with the Company, joining in with their jokes and laughing loudly. She was also glad that they did not change their ways because she was a female, or because she was a Princess, or that she was of a different race, as others did in the past. In fact, it comforted her, because they were in a familiar setting.

"That must be Bombur's third leg of lamb already!" she told Bofur, who was sitting on her other side.

"Oh, that's nothing, really," he told her, grinning. "I bet, if I throw this, he'll catch it in his mouth."

"Not a chance!" Dwalin growled, overhearing their conversation.

"Not from this distance, surely?" Lothíriel exclaimed.

"Wanna bet?" Bofur said. "Hey, Bombur! Catch!"

And to Lothíriel's amazement, Bombur indeed caught the flying food in his mouth, which made the whole Company cheer. Suddenly though, Lothíriel saw a boot stamp closely to her plate. Frowning, she looked up and saw Fili walking up and down the table, offering ale, and saw Dwalin was annoyed at Fili trampling all over the table as he said, "Oh you great galumphing git!"

"Lothíriel?" Fili offered.

"I have one, thank you," she replied, holding her half-full pint up for him to see.

"Ah! I have a spare, let me just fill that up for you—"

"Oh—thank you," she said, returning his smile as he jumped down and back to his seat.

"Have another drink!" Dwalin shouted to Oin.

"What?" asked Oin, who did not have his ear trumpet in to help him hear.

"I said _have another drink_!" Dwalin shouted, pouring an ale into his ear trumpet. "Here ya' go!" And Oin proceeded to blow the end so it bubbled out, causing another wave of laughter.

"Ale on the count of three!" Bofur shouted. "And you, Lothíriel...one, two, three—"

Lothíriel, feeling under some slight pressure, closed her eyes, blocked out the average taste of ale and downed it in very large gulps so she finished near enough with everybody else. She slammed her empty pint down in pride whilst two of the others burped, causing Lothíriel to laugh again along with everybody else—she had a nasty feeling the ale was making her feel warm and giggly.

"I knew you had it in you!" Bofur said, looking proud and patting her on the back.

"And _that_ is enough ale for me," Lothíriel told him sternly, but then began laughing at more Dwarvish antics.

Later, dinner had finished and everyone was relaxing around Bilbo's hobbit hole. Lothíriel was talking merrily to Bofur, leaning against the wall, who was telling her that he was "told there would be free beer" on this Quest, which was a big selling point apparently, and he has "come to make my fortune."

"And what about you?" he asked with interest. "I know that you are in exile, but you do not seem to _mind_ it."

She decided not tell Bofur, or anyone just yet, about her father and his abuse. She was thankful that Gandalf or Balin had not told everyone either; she did not want to look weak. "I...do not get along with my father...the King. Númenor was once the greatest Kingdom of Men but he has taken that away from us, so I decided to leave. I am safe in the knowledge that my twin brother is looking after the people now I am gone."

Bofur nodded and smiled kindly, all joking aside for a moment. "I see. We are grateful to have another ally alongside us."

"It is what my grandfather would have wanted...to help Durin's Folk," Lothíriel said quietly, thinking back to the way King Eldacar used to talk about them.

"Excuse me!" Came the all-too-familiar voice of a cross Bilbo Baggins. "That is a doily, not a dishcloth." He took the said doily from the hands of Nori.

Bofur looked too. "But it's full of holes!"

"It's supposed to look like that," Bilbo told him, "it's crochet."

"Oh and a wonderful game it is too, if you've got the balls for it." Bofur chuckled and Lothíriel laughed along with him.

"Bebother and confusticate these Dwarves!" Lothíriel heard Bilbo mutter to himself.

"I do think that Dwarves are wonderful," she said, intending for Bofur to be the audience but instead turned to face Fili. Bofur was now wrestling a long line of sausages with Nori.

"Are we?" he asked, amused. "Is that the ale talking?"

"It most certainly isn't," Lothíriel said, trying to act as if the ale was not taking any effect. "I am telling the _whole_ truth. My grandfather was right about the Longbeards."

Fili smiled. "Thorin speaks most highly of King Eldacar."

Lothíriel grinned in thanks. "Do you know Thorin well?" she asked.

"Of course," he chuckled. "I am his nephew. And Kili too. Our mother is his sister."

"Oh...you must be the next in line to the throne. The future King."

"As are you," he leant against the wall so as to be closer to her. "You are the rightful heir. We have something in common, you and I."

"I suppose we do," Lothíriel murmured back.

Fili then noticed Bilbo and Gandalf leave for the hallway and excused himself, looking like he had a plan in mind. Intrigued, Lothíriel followed him.

"—I don't understand what they're doing in my house!" Bilbo cried, his hands on his hips. Lothíriel stood next to Gandalf, watching.

"Excuse me," came the voice of the adorable Ori. "I'm sorry to interrupt. But what should I do with my plate?"

Lothíriel could have just hugged him there and then for sounding so polite, but then Fili approached them. "Here you go, Ori, give it to me."

Lothíriel ducked just in time as Fili threw the plate to somebody behind her; Kili was there now and he caught it, then throwing it to someone in the kitchen. Soon enough, there were plates, bowls and what not flying through the air as Fili and Kili began to play with Bilbo's crockery.

"Excuse me! That's my mother's West Farthing pottery; it's over a hundred years old!" Bilbo frantically cried out but Lothíriel gazed in wonder at their perfect throws and catches.

Lothíriel looked at the Dwarves making a tune with the cutlery as Bilbo then said, "And can you not do that, you'll blunt them!"

"Ooh, do you hear that, lads?" came the cheeky voice of Bofur. "He says we'll blunt the knives!"

The Princess laughed as she joined in with the clearing away and washing up process; throwing and catching things, putting the table and the dining room back together, giving Bombur all the leftover food so nothing was wasted, listening to their singing and watching Bofur and Dwalin play musical instruments:

_Blunt the knives, bend the forks,_

_Smash the bottles and burn the corks,_

_Chip the glasses and crack the plates,_

_That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!_

_Cut the cloth, tread on the fat,_

_Leave the bones on the bedroom mat,_

_Pour the milk on the pantry floor,_

_Splash the wine on every door!_

_Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl,_

_Pound them up with a thumping pole,_

_When you're finished, if they are whole,_

_Send them down the hall to roll!_

_And that's what Bilbo Baggins hates!_

Bilbo's face when he saw how clean they had made everything made them all crack up laughing, holding another ale each, with the exception of Lothíriel, and some holding pipes. She grasped Kili's shoulder whilst she laughed, and he hers in return, but they were all interrupted by the sound of a pounding on the door.

The laughter stopped suddenly and they all looked towards the front door. "He is here," Gandalf muttered.

They all knew who he meant and so followed Gandalf to the front door, crowding around it. Lothíriel stood at the back of the Dwarves who were standing directly in front of the door. He opened it, and there stood Thorin Oakenshield.

* * *

**A/N:** And there you have it :) I decided to end it there as it was long enough already! Thank you so much for your amazing support so far, you have no idea how happy it makes me to see a message in my inbox saying I've received a favourite/an alert/a review :) so I hope you enjoyed and I'll post the next chapter within the next few days.


	3. Chapter 3: An Unexpected Party, Part Two

**Chapter Three: An Unexpected Party, Part Two**

Thorin Oakenshield had long dark hair, but sported no beard, aside from thick stubble and a moustache, which surprised Lothíriel. He had a plait or two in his hair, perhaps to make up for the lack of beard and was tall for a Dwarf. Very tall in fact as he matched Lothíriel in size. He stepped inside.

"Gandalf," he said in a deep voice. He too was a handsome Dwarf, like Fili and Kili. "I thought you said this place would be easy to find." Some of the Dwarves bowed; others, like Dwalin, did not. "I lost my way, twice. I wouldn't have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door."

Thorin unclipped his cloak. "Mark?" Bilbo came into view, standing by his front door, quite obviously ready to defend it. "There's no mark on that door. It was painted a week ago!"

Lothíriel saw Thorin turn and smile affectionately to his nephews as Gandalf said, "There is a mark, I put it there myself." Thorin gave his cloak to Kili. "Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our Company: Thorin Oakenshield."

"So...this is the Hobbit," Thorin said, studying him. He then circled him. "Tell me, Mister Baggins, have you done much fighting?"

Lothíriel could have laughed aloud. "Pardon me?" Bilbo asked, confused. Of course no one had yet told him what they were actually doing there.

"Ax or sword? What's your weapon of choice?"

"Well, I do have some skill at conkers, if you must know," he said, looking extremely pleased with himself. Lothíriel could not see Thorin's face as he had his back to her but Bilbo soon realised he had said the wrong thing. "But I fail to see...why that's relevant."

Gandalf's horrified face made Lothíriel chuckle, more so than Bilbo's announcement of his talent for conkers.

"Thought as much," Thorin said, turning slightly to his fellow Dwarves. "He looks more like a grocer than a burglar."

Feeling a pang of sympathy for the Hobbit, Lothíriel began to move away back to the dining room with the other Dwarves who had laughed at this, until she heard Thorin say to Gandalf, "Is she here yet? I heard she would be travelling with Balin."

"Ah, yes, Lothíriel!" Gandalf called. Thorin turned as she made her way through the Dwarves, reaching them still standing by the front door.

"Thorin, this is Lothíriel, Princess of Númenor," Gandalf introduced her to Thorin. They bowed their heads to each other.

Gandalf left them to it as Thorin nodded. "You are King Eldacar's granddaughter," he said, gazing at her.

"I am."

"He was a great man and an even better warrior," Thorin told her. "I am glad to have you with us, my Lady."

"Please, call me Lothíriel," she told him. He nodded and even smiled at her request. "And yes, he would have wanted one of his own kin to help you."

"As he was the only one to help us when we were in need," he muttered. "I will never forget it."

She smiled at the King. "I must apologize though, on behalf of my father—"

He waved a hand. "Please, do not. There is no need. You are not your father."

No one has ever said that to her before, and it was so comforting. "Yes—I...thank you." She didn't know what it was but it was very annoying—the fact that she felt a little nervous in his company, just the two of them, particularly when he stared at her the way he did. They were interrupted by Bombur. "Come, Thorin, we have some food ready for you."

"Ah, thank you," he said and they turned together to walk to the dining room. "Come, Lothíriel—sit with me."

And so she pulled up a chair beside him as he sipped his broth.

"What news from the meeting in Ered Luin?" asked Balin. Lothíriel remembered him telling her that Ered Luin was another name for the Blue Mountains. "Did they all come?"

"Aye. Envoys from all seven kingdoms." _That's right. Seven kingdoms of the Dwarves._ They all muttered happily with this news.

"And what did the Dwarves of the Iron Hills say?" Now it was Dwalin's turn to ask questions. "Is Dain with us?" Lothíriel made a mental note to ask who Dain was after this.

Thorin sighed. "They will not come." The Dwarves sighed and moaned at this. "They say this Quest is ours and ours alone."

"You're going on a Quest?" asked Bilbo, who had calmed down considerably and was standing near where Lothíriel was sitting.

"Bilbo, my dear fellow, let us have a little more light," Gandalf said to him. Bilbo nodded. "Far to the east, over ranges and rivers, beyond woodlands and wastelands, lies a single, solitary peak." At this point, Gandalf had a laid a map out on the table in between where Thorin and Lothíriel were sitting.

Bilbo reached over with a candle. "The Lonely Mountain," he read from the map.

"Aye. Oin has read the portents, and the portents say _it is time_," said Gloin.

"Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain, as it was foretold," Oin confirmed. "_When the birds of yore return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end_."

"Uh, what beast?" asked Bilbo nervously.

"Oh, that would be a reference to Smaug the Terrible, chiefest and greatest calamity of our age," Bofur said, and rather dramatically, or so Lothíriel thought. "Airborne fire-breather. Teeth like razors, claws like meat hooks. Extremely fond of precious metals," he added on a lighter note.

"Yes, I know what a dragon is!" Bilbo told him.

To the surprise of probably the whole Company, Ori suddenly stood up. "I'm not afraid, I'm up for it! I'll give him a taste of Dwarvish iron right up his jacksie!"

Lothíriel shared an amused look with Gandalf as his brother Dori told him to sit down.

"The task would be difficult enough with an army behind us," said Balin, the voice of reason, "but we number just fourteen. And not fourteen of the best...nor brightest."

"Here, who are you calling dim?" asked Nori whilst Oin said, "What did he say?" obviously not using his ear trumpet to its full effect. Lothíriel herself through that Balin was being a little harsh; they had all volunteered to come on this Quest, after all.

Fili then slammed his fist down on the table. "We may be few in number, but we're fighters. All of us. To the last Dwarf! And Lady, of course." He grinned at Lothíriel from the other end of the table.

"And you forget, we have a Wizard in our company!" Kili added. "Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time."

"Oh, well no," Gandalf murmured. "I wouldn't say—"

"How many then?" asked Dori.

"What?"

"How many dragons have you killed?"

Lothíriel again looked at Gandalf, a smile playing on her lips but this time it was not returned as he began to cough nervously.

"Go on, give us a number!"

At this they all stood up and started shouting at each other, and Lothíriel sighed and leaned on her hand, suddenly feeling very tired. She blamed the ale.

"Excuse me, please—" Bilbo desperately tried to keep the peace but Thorin managed to do the trick, shouting what sounded like "**Shazara**!" in Khuzdul.

"If we have read these signs do you not think others will have read them too? Rumours have begun to spread. The dragon Smaug has not been seen for sixty years. Eyes look east to the mountain, assessing, wondering, weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected. Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor?" They all cheered as Thorin shouted something else in Dwarvish, "**Du** **Bekâr! Du Bekâr**!" but Lothíriel had noticed that Balin still looked sceptical. He had sounded it when they travelled together to Hobbiton.

"You forget: the front gate is sealed," he then said, the cheering dying down. "There is no way into the mountain."

"That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true," Gandalf said, spinning a key around his fingers as it appeared from mid-air.

Thorin gazed at the key; his mouth had opened in surprise. "How came you by this?" he whispered.

"It was given to me by your father," Gandalf answered. "By Thráin. For safekeeping. It is yours now." Lothíriel watched as he handed over the key to Thorin. All of the Dwarves were staring at it as Thorin held it up.

"If there is a key," Fili said slowly, "there must be a door!"

Gandalf used the end of his pipe to point to a certain part of the map, nodding at Fili as he did so. "These runes speak of a hidden passage to the Lower Halls."

Kili grinned. "There's another way in!"

"Well if we can find it, but Dwarf doors are invisible when closed," Gandalf said, sighing. "The answer lies hidden somewhere in this map and I do not have the skill to find it. But, there are others in Middle-earth who can. The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth and no small amount of courage. But if we are careful and clever, I believe that it can be done."

Lothíriel suddenly felt a great deal of pride and excitement at the Quest ahead. She would be a part of something huge that will affect Middle-earth in more ways than one.

"That's why we need a burglar," Ori said, pointing towards where Bilbo was standing.

"Hmm, and a good one too," Bilbo agreed. "An expert, I'd imagine."

"And _are_ you?" asked Gloin, to which Lothíriel looked up at Bilbo. He turned around slightly before saying, "Am I what?"

"He said he's an expert!" said Oin, laughing happily at this.

"M—Me? No, no, no, no, no. I'm not a burglar; I've never stolen a thing in my life!" Bilbo exclaimed, trying to get himself out of the situation.

"I'm afraid I have to agree with Mister Baggins," said Balin. "He's hardly burglar material."

"Nope!" Bilbo agreed, looking a little pleased.

"Aye, the wild is no place for gentlefolk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves," Dwalin muttered, staring at Bilbo. Bilbo himself nods to agree, looking satisfied with what the Dwarves were saying about it. Lothíriel would have been offended if someone had said that about her!

"He's just fine!" Kili said, and Lothíriel was glad someone saw something good in Bilbo. However the Dwarves erupted into arguments; she sighed, and shared a look of contempt with Gandalf, who has had enough at this point. A darkness fell over the group and everybody fell quiet in awe as the wizard spoke in a powerful voice.

"Enough! If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is. Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unseen by most, if they choose. And, while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the scent of hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage. You asked me to find more members of this company, and I have chosen Mister Baggins and the Lady Lothíriel. There's a lot more to Bilbo than appearances suggest, and he's got a great deal more to offer than any of you know," He then looked at Bilbo, "including himself."

Gandalf leant toward Thorin. "You must trust me on this."

"Very well," Thorin answered. "We will do it _your_ way."

"No, no, no—" Bilbo attempted to protest but Thorin said to Balin, "Give him the contract."

"Please!" Bilbo said weakly, but Lothíriel, as Balin dug out the contract, said to Bilbo kindly: "It'll be alright, Bilbo. Think of it as a great adventure!"

Bilbo smiled kindly at the Princess attempting to cheer him up, but soon looked worried once more as Balin stood up and held out the contract. "It's just the usual. Summary of out-of-pocket expenses, time required, remuneration...funeral arrangements, so forth."

"_Funeral arrangements?_" Bilbo exclaimed as Thorin grabbed the contract from Balin and pushed it straight into Bilbo's arms.

"Contract?" Lothíriel asked Gandalf.

"Dwarves are very fond of contracts," he murmured. "I think there is one for you to sign, too."

"For _me_?" Lothíriel was not sure what to make of this. No, she _knew_ how to make of this. She felt annoyed that they'd think she would even _need_ to sign one, or to be content with knowing the conditions of the Quest. Can't she just go on an adventure she willingly volunteered for without reading small print?

Bilbo had moved away from the table to read the long document that fell to the floor, muttering to himself as he did so. Lothíriel felt a little depressed at possibly having to read her own. Thorin said to Gandalf, with Lothíriel hearing every word as she was sat in the middle of them, "I cannot guarantee his safety."

"Understood."

"Nor will I be responsible for his fate."

"Agreed."

Thorin then looked at Lothíriel, who quickly said to the King, "I am responsible for my own safety and fate."

He nodded and smiled a little at the Princess, who seemed to be surprising everyone that night. She was not what they expected a Princess to be like.

"Terms: Cash on delivery, up to but not exceeding one fourteenth of total profit, if any," Bilbo was reading the terms aloud. "Seems fair. Present company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence thereof including but not limited to lacerations ...evisceration…_incineration_?" He asked the last one to the group of Dwarves, looking alarmed now.

"Oh, aye, he'll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye," Bofur said very matter-of-factly, as if having a normal conversation.

Bilbo looked a little breathless and just simply said, "Huh."

"You all right, laddie?" Balin asked kindly.

Bilbo bent over, looking as if he was going to be sick. He breathed a few times, "Uh, yeah...I feel a bit faint."

"Think furnace...with wings," Bofur had stood up now to inform Bilbo of how to die a terrible death by Dragon.

"Air, I—I—I need air."

"Flash of light, searing pain, then _poof!_ You're nothing more than a pile of ash!" Bofur sounded too fascinated for Lothíriel's liking.

Bilbo tried desperately to compose himself as his breathing became quicker. "Hmmm." He turned to the group once more. "Nope."

And with that, Thorin, Gandalf and Lothíriel now stood up in some concern, Bilbo fell to the floor. He fainted.

"Oh, very helpful, Bofur," Gandalf muttered.

"Is he going to be alright?" asked Lothíriel worriedly, as the Dwarves began to mutter between themselves.

Whilst Gandalf knelt down next to the Hobbit, Bofur was staring at Bilbo in confusion. "I didn't think he'd take me_ that_ seriously."

Thorin rolled his eyes, and they all began to disperse from the table as they did before. The Dwarven King had finished his broth, so they all set off to relax around the Hobbit Hole again. Gandalf had helped Bilbo up and was leading him somewhere, perhaps to sit down and gather himself. Before she could see if the funny Hobbit was alright, Lothíriel was given a contract to sign by Balin, who insisted she "read it all."

Sighing, she took the contract, and found some sort of writing desk and stool, which she perched herself on and, as quickly as she could possibly muster, began scanning the contract.

"Like some company?" asked a voice, followed by the scraping of a chair. Lothíriel looked up and saw it was Fili.

"That would be nice," she smiled, looking back down at the contract.

He moved his chair close to hers, and leaned over her shoulder. She felt his breath on her shoulder. They sat in a comfortable silence whilst she quickly scanned the contract. Her breath hitched at the part about profit; the gold.

"What is it?" asked Fili in concern.

"Well, this contract is a _little_ insulting," she told him, grabbing a quill and signing her name underneath _Thorin Oakenshield_ and _Balin, Son of Fundin._

"Why?"

"The part about gaining profit, if we succeed," she told him. "I do not expect _any_ profit. I do not want anything from you. I am simply doing what I think is right."

Fili smiled at her. She was sitting to the side, and now Fili was sitting directly in front of her. "We all know that, Lothíriel."

"Good," she smiled back at the Dwarf Prince. "Well, I must find Balin."

They both stood and left the little room, and Lothíriel soon found him, talking with Thorin in the hallway. Before she approached them, however, Fili placed a hand on her back and she sucked in her breath at the contact.

"I shall be in that room over there," he pointed to the archway by the front door. "Come and find me afterwards. Kili and I shall enjoy your company."

Lothíriel looked at him as he walked past, smiling in kindness at the Princess. She nodded to him, and walked over to Balin.

"Here, Balin, I have signed it," Lothíriel told her friend, handing over the contract. He took it and put it into his pocket.

"Ah, thank you, m'Lady—Lothíriel," he added, chuckling. She smiled at his correction. _They're getting it._

"Lothíriel." Thorin's deep voice dragged Lothíriel's gaze away from Balin to the King. "Gandalf has told me what your father has done," he gritted his teeth, closed his eyes and exhaled. "What he has done, to the kingdom...and to _you_."

Lothíriel swallowed and nodded. Thorin continued, "But I promise nobody else knows. And they will not find out, unless you want them to."

"Thank you, Thorin," she replied, almost whispering. "Thank you for letting me accompany you."

"As soon as Gandalf told me," he said to her defiantly, "I had to. I had to help King Eldacar's granddaughter."

Lothíriel smiled kindly at him and he smiled back. Balin looked on curiously, never seeing Thorin smile as much as he did when she was around.

"—Sorry, Gandalf, I can't sign this. You've got the wrong Hobbit."

The three of them looked up as Bilbo walked away from where he was sitting with Gandalf.

"It appears we have lost our burglar," Balin sighed. "Probably for the best. The odds were always against us. After all, what are we? Merchants, miners, tinkers, toy-makers. Hardly the stuff of legend."

Lothíriel looked at Thorin to see his response. To her surprise, he was smiling a little again. He struck her as somebody who did not often smile. "There are a few warriors amongst us." He nodded to Balin, and then looked at Lothíriel, gesturing to her. "I have heard you fight well."

She bowed her head in humble thanks whilst Balin said, "_Old_ warriors."

"I would take each and every one of these Dwarves, and the Lady, over an army from the Iron Hills. For when I called upon them, they came. Loyalty. Honor. A willing heart. I can ask no more than that."

Lothíriel gazed at him in wonder, entranced by his nice words of his Dwarven comrades.

But Balin had stood up. "You don't have to do this!" he told Thorin. "You have a choice."

_I don't bloody think so,_ thought Lothíriel. _Not after I read Middle-earth's most boring contract._

"You have done honourably by our people," Balin continued. "You have built a new life for us in the Blue Mountains: a life of peace and plenty. A life that is worth more than all the gold in Erebor."

Thorin held out the key that Gandalf had given him earlier. "From my grandfather to my father, this has come to me. They dreamt of the day when the dwarves of Erebor would reclaim their homeland. There is no choice, Balin. Not for me."

Balin sighed. "Then we are with you, laddie."

"We will see it done," Lothíriel found herself saying, in almost some sort of boldness. Thorin nevertheless put a thankful hand on her shoulder.

* * *

A while later, Lothíriel had found the two Dwarf Princes, as Fili had requested. They were sitting around a small table, in the room where Lothíriel first met Dwalin. She was sipping a warm cup of tea, whilst they were still drinking ale.

"Lothíriel, can you tell us about Númenor?" Kili said in an air of excitement. His smile then faltered, "Only if you want to, of course. Sorry, I forgot you are in exile, it was rude of me..." Fili was looking disapprovingly at his brother and Lothíriel grinned.

"No, no!" she told him. "It is fine. I do miss it, and I hope to return there someday. Even if only for a short time."

Kili looked relieved and his smile returned. "We have heard a lot about it when we were growing up. They say it is the greatest kingdom of Men."

"I have heard that too," Lothíriel joked. She paused for a moment, thinking of the words to describe her incredible home. "I do not know where to begin."

"We have a whole Quest ahead of us for you to tell us the entire tale," Kili said, winking. Lothíriel smiled.

"Well, I suppose a good place to start would be at the beginning," said Lothíriel. "Perhaps we should begin with Númenor's history."

Kili nodded eagerly and Lothíriel began. "Well, as you know Númenor is an Island, located in The Great Sea, to the west of Middle-earth. The Island was brought up from the sea as a gift from the Valar to the Fathers of Men, who we know as the Edain."

"And they were the Men who fought against Morgoth in the War of the Jewels?"

"The very same. I suppose Númenor was to be a 'place of rest' after the War. So those who survived the War against Morgoth sailed to the Isle. The migration took about fifty years and bought Men in their thousands. Our realm as we know it today was established sometime in the Second Age and Elros was crowned the first King.

"We became a mighty force, sailing everywhere we could possibly get to. And even still today we have a great coastal empire that has no rival. But after the forging of the One Ring, the War of the Elves and Sauron broke out and Númenor helped their Elven allies. The great army landed in Lindon, and they turned the tide of the War; Sauron was driven back after this heavy defeat. The army also caught Sauron a second time, defeating him in the Battle of the Gwathló. His forces were no match for the superior might of the Númenóreans and Sauron was unable to leave Mordor for a time.

"King Ar-Pharazôn was the most powerful of our Kings. With a great fleet he landed on Umbar, marched on Mordor and took Sauron himself as a prisoner back to Númenor. Sauron tried to corrupt the King but when this plan failed, he, in a rage, burnt the White Tree Nimloth which stood before the King's House in Armenelos. Isildur, who would become the High King of Gondor and Arnor, rescued two fruits of the tree, planting one in Armenelos and planting another in Minas Ithil, preserving the Ancient Line of Trees.

"As a reward from the Valar for not succumbing to Sauron's influence, they rose another Island to the West of Númenor. King Ar-Pharazôn had re-captured Sauron after he escaped the dungeons, and with instructions from the Valar, sailed to the Island, which was a vast wasteland, and left Sauron there. In an almighty cataclysm which changed the geography of the world, Sauron's Island sank beneath the sea and Númenor was protected by the Valar from harm. Thereafter, Sauron was robbed of his body and could only appear in the form of a Dark Lord."

Fili and Kili were staring at her intently, taking a great interest at her words. She noticed the sudden change of atmosphere; less candles were lit and it was now a dark and quiet atmosphere, much different to the antics of the Dwarves earlier. Many of them were congregating in a sitting room now.

"Shall we go and join the others?" asked Lothíriel, watching as the Dwarves relaxed around the fire.

The Princes nodded. "I hope you will tell us more soon," Kili said hopefully. "I also hope it does not upset you talking about Númenor."

"No, it does not," she replied. "Quite the opposite, in fact. I also wish to hear about you Dwarves, too," she added, smiling at him. They all intrigued her, as much as she seemed to intrigue them.

They entered the sitting room. As they did so, the Dwarves were humming a beautiful melody and all seemed to be entranced, whilst sipping their drinks or smoking their pipes. Fili leant against the wall, lighting his pipe as he did so; Lothíriel and Kili stood a way back in front of the crackling flames of the fire. Gandalf was sitting with his back to them, seemingly troubled by the Hobbit. Lothíriel found herself staring into the flames as, to her surprise, Thorin Oakenshield began to sing a beautiful song.

_Far over, the misty mountains cold,_

_To dungeons deep, and caverns old,_

_We must away, ere break of day,_

_To find our long-forgotten gold._

It was then that Lothíriel realised how important music was to the Dwarves. It was embedded in their culture. They appreciated the beauty and art of it a lot more that Men do. Lothíriel certainly couldn't see her father singing like Thorin was. There was something humbling about seeing Dwarves, like Dwalin especially, enjoy a song that meant something to them. Others began to join in too.

_The pines were roaring on the height,_

_The winds were moaning in the night,_

_The fire was red, it flaming spread,_

_The trees like torches blazed with light._

It was after this that arrangements for the night ahead were made. Spare rooms were filled, and beds were made on sofas. Lothíriel found herself sharing a room with Balin, which she did not mind after travelling with him and sleeping near him for many nights. "I am even used to your snoring," she had told him.

There was one last thing left to do. Lothíriel knocked on Bilbo's bedroom door, and he answered. "Oh, Lothíriel."

"Bilbo. Are you alright?"

"Yes, I am quite well," he replied, though he looked full of thought and extremely tired. "Do you think any less of me because I could not sign the contract?"

Lothíriel smiled kindly. "Of course not!" she told him. "I think you are wonderful. I would very much like to visit after the Quest is over, if that would suit you?"

"You are welcome here any time," he said, bowing slightly.

She thanked the kind Hobbit. "Also, Bilbo, do you have a bathroom I can use? _Another_ bathroom, one _they_ have not used."

Bilbo chuckled. "Yes, I do. You can use my own bathroom, it's through here."

After days of not washing properly, Lothíriel marvelled in what could be the last soap and hot water wash she'll have in a while. She re-dressed, thanked Bilbo once more and found her room for the night.

Seeing Balin was already asleep on the sofa in the spare room, Lothíriel placed a blanket over the snoring Dwarf, climbed into the comfy bed and was asleep as soon as her weary head hit the pillow.

* * *

**A/N:** Well there you go! That was a long one, it took me days to write. I am sorry for the wait, but it has been pushed back due to end of term deadlines, a new part time job, my birthday, etc, etc. Life getting in the way, as I'm sure you can all relate! Buttttt I hope you enjoyed anyway, I absolutely loved writing (and re-writing!) Númenor's history.

Ooh, also, I am working on a new _Hobbit _story, which will hopefully be a Kili/OC and possibly Tauriel/OC. Instead of focusing on OCs from Middle-earth, my characters are from our world and are transported to Middle-earth. There is information on my profile page on the upcoming story, so keep an eye out for it! :)

So let me know what you think if you can and until next time, readers. :)


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